A View Over Heaven
by sinkingsidewalks
Summary: "Together, they once again look through to certain death beyond the single pane." Some post Season 4 Finale Fitz angst, because there wasn't already enough of that


Fitz lies back against the blanket, the coolness of the grass seeping through to his skin, offsetting the sinking heat of the sun. Undoubtedly, he'll be burnt by the end of the day, even with Jemma's meticulous insistence at regular sun cream applications. But for the moment he's simply content to let his mind lapse, to enjoy the sunshine and let his subconscious deal with all the problems he's still trying to work out.

He stares up into the cloudless blue sky through the sunglasses Simmons forced onto his face before they left her dorm, all the while spouting facts about damaged corneas. There hadn't seemed like much point in arguing, especially because she's probably right. She usually is, his best friend. The thought still makes him grin.

The glasses paint the world just a touch redder than it should be, although his eyes have adjusted and his brain has already corrected for the mistake as much as they can. It means that he's not sure whether the sky really is that blue of a blue or if the darkened lenses have skewed the colour. The tone of it is different here than at home and he's not used to it yet.

His contemplation is interrupted when his eyes pick up movement in the empty landscape above. A plane, he thinks initially, the Academy is under a flight path, but no, it's the wrong shape. Upon further study he thinks he can pick out the structure of a solar array. A satellite then.

It glides steadily through the upper atmosphere, more fluid than an aircraft could travel, along its arched orbit that his eyes track easily. He wonders what task this particular satellite is performing.

A blade of grass tickles his elbow and he swipes at it, ridding the itching feeling from his skin. Jemma flips another page of paper and it's loud in the relative silence. The park is basically empty today, despite the sunshine, it seems like the entire rest of the Academy is locked indoors.

He tips his head back to glance at Jemma. She's still hunched over a textbook, highlighter in her hand and pen behind her ear. The soft breeze ruffles her ponytail, flittering the hairs over her shoulder the same as it moves through the long grass. He taps the side of her knee with his knuckle to get her attention and her gaze bounces upwards.

"Satellite," he explains, stretching his arm upwards to point, easily finding where it's moved along its invisible line in the sky.

But he watches her now instead, as her head tips back and her eyes scan the sky beneath her own glasses, looking for what he was pointing to. He can tell the exact moment she finds it, because the contemplative expression that she's maintained over the last four hours of studying slips into a curious smile, the same as when a set of blueprints they've made actually works out or when she figures out the key to make something click.

Her eyes flicker back down to his and he knows that it's gone from their view, passed beyond the treeline. The smile that graces her lips he can't help but mimic as she returns to her books and his gaze falls back to the sky.

In a different universe, years and light years away, the same but a different man stands watching asteroids pass through the infinity outside his cell window.

There are too many to track a single one across the sky. So many in fact that they obstruct his view of the stars beyond. It makes it nearly impossible to distinguish the constellations he can see flickering in the distance, even as he stares out the window for hours on end, trying to piece bits to visible bits.

Not that he'd recognize them, even if he could see them as clearly as Polaris shone above his grandmother's cottage in the Scottish Highlands. If only now there was some light to guide him home.

Instead, he lets the movement glaze over his eyes, pulling his focus all the way out to the shining edges of a single star. Watching it between the asteroids, but not seeing it as his mind whirls through the emptiness.

The window covering distorts the light some. It's not made of glass, that was one of the first things he checked upon waking in this cell, or at least it's not glass the way they know of it. Regardless, it darkens the star, enough that he has no indication of its composition, and gives him the indication that it's meant to be shading them from a closer star, a sun, that he's yet to experience.

Jemma's fingers land on the bare skin at the inside of his wrist and he struggles not to flinch against the sudden contact. It turns his attention to her but the moment their eyes meet, hers flicker out to the space beyond them.

He watches her eyes, not static like his had been, how instead they skim over the sky, back and forth, the same as when she reads. How many hours has he watched her like this, through the corners of his eyes, when he was supposed to be studying too?

Her fingers don't leave his wrist nor do they wrap around his own. A part of him aches to take her hand, to reach out for how it was, to cling to the possibilities they once had, but he can't let himself. He can't. The hole in his soul has ripped too wide, it threatens anything that nears him. The star of his self has collapsed into a supernova, it's torn itself to shreds and left a sucking black hole in his place.

But her skin is warm where his is cool, and her eyes contemplate the sky as if she could will the rocks and stars into a discernable order, into a shining path home for them. It clogs up his chest with the memory of when he believed in more than just her. His gaze falls back to the broken but insurmountable darkness.

Together, they once again look through to certain death beyond the single pane.

xx

I don't know how they got in the same cell, maybe just go with it.

Thanks so much for reading and please let me know what you think! If you want to chat I'm always around on tumblr at sinkingsidewalks


End file.
